


Nethermost

by Amethystina



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A dash of blood, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Banter, Bucky is cranky, Clint just wants to do his job, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Violence, Restraints, SO MUCH BANTER, tony is badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethystina/pseuds/Amethystina
Summary: Bucky can tell, right from the start, that there's something wrong with this job. Kidnapping people for money is never pretty, sure, but the lack of information about the target is unnerving and, when he and Clint actually get their hands on the guy, he's not at all what Bucky expects.Unlike all the other rich bastards Bucky has kidnapped over the years, this man isn't afraid, doesn't cry or wail, or tries to buy his freedom. Instead, he talks, smiles, andflirts, which is both frustrating and, maybe, just a little bit fascinating.This can never end well.





	Nethermost

**Author's Note:**

> This was a thing I wrote for a key exchange we did over on the [18+ Winteriron server on Discord](https://discord.gg/A32YB6Y) over a year ago. It was prompted by [sleepyoceanprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fynndin/pseuds/sleepyoceanprince) and the exact words were _"Chewing gum and duct tape"_ which I am well aware is an expression for highly questionable patching/problem solving, but my mind just went elsewhere and here we are.
> 
> For a long while, I hoped I would continue this — as you can tell, I got started on the world building — but I've faced the fact that I won't. I have far too many projects and this would grow far too big, so I'm going to have to let this first chapter stand on its own. Hopefully, it will still be enjoyable. Have fun!

 

"If you're going to be blowing bubbles for the rest of the night, can I at least get a gum too?"

Bucky looked up at the rusty ceiling, trying to maintain his composure. He hadn't expected the hostage to be quite this talkative. Tears and pleas he was used to, but this man, with his carefree grin and devil-may-care attitude, was clearly something else. He didn't even seem _frightened_ , despite being cuffed to a chair in a decrepit warehouse down in Nethermost.

People like this man — the rich ones — would usually start screaming the moment they saw a Netherdweller, never mind a cyborg like Bucky. Bizarrely, this one had almost seemed _fascinated_ when seeing Bucky's bionic arm, and he was still tossing out the occasional question about it, probably in an attempt to throw Bucky off balance.

Clint's next bubble burst with a loud _pop_ and Bucky reminded himself that Clint was a valuable and reliable ally, despite his many oddities and bad habits. The chewing gum was getting old pretty fast, though.

"Ignoring me won't make me stop talking," their hostage pointed out, and Bucky was definitely prepared to believe that considering that the man hadn't shut up once in the past three hours. His stamina was, quite frankly, impressive. "So, do I get gum?"

Bucky closed his eyes and exhaled, telling himself to maintain calm. It wasn't that bad. He could handle this. It was just that every single thing about their hostage grated on him. The neatly styled hair, the well-groomed goatee, and that casual, confident smile that said that this was a man who was used to getting everything he wanted, no matter the price. Even the cut of the man's _suit_ infuriated Bucky, because he knew that it had to have cost more money than Bucky would probably see in his lifetime.

Bucky might have taken a little too much pleasure in tugging off the hostage's blindfold back when they had first reached the warehouse, ruining his perfect hair in the process.

"Hey, I'm talking to you. Do I get—"

"No," Bucky snapped, glaring at their hostage. The man didn't seem at all impressed, let alone scared. He met Bucky's gaze with a frustrating amount of confidence, even if he was the one at a disadvantage. Bucky gritted his teeth. "Shut. The fuck. Up."

"He speaks!" the man exclaimed, looking up at Bucky with a grin. A lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead and, had Bucky not known _he_ was responsible for the state of the hostage's hair, he would think it had been put there on purpose. Even when disheveled and cuffed to a chair the man managed to look annoyingly attractive.

If Bucky had been less angry, he might even have considered him handsome.

"We're making progress," the hostage said cheerfully. "Maybe now we can get a dialogue going."

Clint snorted from amusement but didn't say anything. It was usually best that way — the less involved they got with a mark, the better — but this rich fuck was just _so infuriating_. Who could blame Bucky for snapping back?

"Be quiet," Bucky hissed, his patience running thin. The fact that it would be in his best interest _not_ to antagonize his captors seemed to have gone completely over this guy's head. Granted that Bucky and Clint were under orders not to hurt the hostage unless in an effort to stop him from escaping, but surely exceptions could be made.

The man looked up at Bucky, his smile obnoxiously calm. He didn't seem bothered by the clunky magnetic cuffs keeping his wrists pinned to the chair, his posture open and relaxed, as if he was sitting there out of his own free will.

"I just wanted a chewing gum," the man said innocently. Bucky immediately felt his hackles rise, even more so when he saw the smugness in the man's gaze. The hostage was _toying_ with him and that had never sat well with Bucky.

"You know what?" Bucky turned to face the hostage fully, perfectly copying that sweet, lilting tone. "I _do_ have somethin' for you."

 _Finally_ there was a flicker of caution in the man's eyes, but it was gone so quickly Bucky almost thought it was his imagination.

"A present? For me? You shouldn't have." There was a spark of something in the man's brown gaze — something that might have been best to consider a threat had he not been safely cuffed to the chair. "The tranquilizer you shot me with was more than enough."

"Clearly not, seein' as you're still talkin'," Bucky replied as he walked over to one of the tables in the room, the one littered with old tools and weird bits and bobs. He picked up a thick roll of tape and stalked back toward the hostage.

"Duct tape? Really? That's old school." The man's voice was pitched just a little higher than usual, though, betraying at least some level of fear. "I'm almost embarrassed to be in the same room as you now. Seriously, who uses duct tape in this day and age?"

Bucky stopped in front of the hostage and smiled. With one sharp tug he unrolled a decent length of tape, and took _immense_ pleasure in seeing the man flinch at the sound.

"I'm really not into gags, sorry," the hostage said, eyes narrowed. He was pressing back in his chair, looking tense and on guard.

"You should have thought of that before runnin' your mouth for three hours straight."

"I was bored." The man shrugged, but the movement looked everything but nonchalant. "You're overreacting."

"No, I'm really not," Bucky replied sweetly as he ripped off a piece of tape with his bionic hand. Say what you will about cyborg parts, but their strength was mighty handy sometimes.

The man was frowning now. "We should talk about this."

Bucky leaned in closer, pinning the hostage in place with his gaze. "I've had quite enough of your talkin', doll. Now I want silence."

Before the man had any time to reply, Bucky had covered his mouth with the piece of tape. The hostage struggled, of course, trying to twist his face out of Bucky's reach, but he couldn't get very far considering the cuffs. Bucky also took the opportunity to swiftly but discreetly push that infuriating lock of hair out of the way — for his own sanity's sake — which the hostage thankfully didn't seem to notice.

The furious glare Bucky received when he took a step back was almost worth the three hours he'd spent listening to the hostage trying to goad a reaction out of him.

"You _do_ know this technically means he won, right?" Clint pointed out with a quirked eyebrow.

"Shut up," Bucky shot back, glaring until Clint raised his hands in surrender. With a flick of his wrist, Bucky tossed the roll of tape back onto the table, where it landed with a loud clatter. He looked at Clint. "Rounds?"

Clint sighed but nodded, obediently heading for the small door which would take him to the rest of the warehouse. While Bucky doubted that anyone had found them — they hadn't been followed when they grabbed their target and Nethermost was a labyrinth of dark alleys and crisscrossing walkways — it was still better to make sure. There were a lot of homeless vagrants in Nethermost, just looking for a place to sleep, and it wouldn't do to have one of them stumble in on a scene like this.

Not that Bucky was entirely sure who they had captured. That wasn't his job. He got paid to snatch the person and deliver them — preferably unharmed — to the contractor. This was no different. Whoever this man was, Bucky wasn't supposed to know his name or why he warranted a kidnapping.

It was, in many ways, easier on his conscience too, to not have a name to the face he was betraying.

The amount of secrecy made Bucky wary, though. He and Clint had simply gotten a location and time, together with a photo of their target, and were told to grab the guy. Usually, Bucky would have said no due to the lack of information — he hated situations where he didn't have all the variables or knew what kind of resistance he might face — but the huge reward had swayed him.

Still, he didn't appreciate being kept in the dark and he was beginning to like this job less and less. Not only because the contractor had kept a lot of details to themselves — which Steve, too, had frowned at — but because the man they had kidnapped was so _odd_. While their hostage had spoken almost constantly for three hours, he had not once mentioned his name or offered to pay them for his release. That was usually the first thing out of a hostage's mouth, together with pleas and sobs. And the rich ones _always_ tossed around their names as if they were worth their weight in gold — as if Bucky was supposed to see the error of his ways as soon as he learned that he had kidnapped a senator or business mogul.

The problem being, of course, that Bucky _loathed_ the rich people living in Crystalline and was more than prepared to inconvenience them if it meant he'd earn more money. He took a great deal of pleasure in it, in fact, because any person willing to literally live on top of those less fortunate weren't worthy of Bucky's respect. The people up in Crystalline thrived in their beautiful skyscrapers with chrome and glass skyways, while the rest of the population was forced to live down at the city base. On the polluted streets of Nethermost, hidden in the shadows cast by the towering building, amongst the smog and grinding machines, people did their best to survive, but it was far from a good life.

Sometimes it took months between the times Bucky saw actual sunlight.

He hated the Crystallines, particularly for their misplaced belief that they were somehow better than others, simply because they had been born with riches and power. The Netherdwellers far outnumbered the Crystallines, but they didn't have the resources to do anything about the injustice — not quite yet, at least.

Bucky looked at their hostage, not surprised to be met by a flat, angry glare in return. Now that the man was sufficiently gagged, the warehouse was eerily silent. Bucky almost _missed_ the talking, which was the last thing he had expected.

Whoever this man was, he had to be important — the price tag on his kidnapping said as much. Bucky was getting more and more convinced that he should try to find out his hostage's identity. It wasn't curiosity or concern so much as self-preservation; Bucky wanted to know what he had gotten himself into. There were simply too many questions concerning this mark. But he had to decide fast. The contractor would send someone to collect the hostage in less than two hours and Bucky knew that would be the last he saw of the man, either because he would be dead by the morning or returned to Crystalline, if a little worse for wear.

That shouldn't bother Bucky, but, for some reason, it did.

He carefully turned his back on the hostage and pushed up his sleeve to look at this communicator. No new messages from Steve. Not that Bucky was expecting any, but he couldn't help checking anyway — it was something of a nervous tick. This job really had him on edge, even if it was supposed to be a simple snatch and deliver.

What would Steve do? He hadn't said no when Bucky had shown him the specifics of the job, but Bucky had seen the thoughtful look in his eyes. Something must have seemed off to Steve as well. The problem was that they desperately needed the money, and it wasn't like Bucky was unfamiliar to the concept of risking his life to keep them afloat. He would do whatever it took to keep Steve and the people who depended on him safe and fed.

That said, Bucky _really_ didn't like this particular job.

He couldn't abandon it now, though. He and Clint had already received half of the payment and breaking the contract would reflect badly on Steve. Bucky couldn't afford that. The _resistance_ couldn't afford that.

Bucky pulled his sleeve back down and gritted his teeth. A Crystalline wasn't worth all this trouble. The man was probably just some rich heir who had messed with the wrong people, perhaps gotten himself in debt. It was none of Bucky's business. When the time came, he would simply take his money and leave. That was what he usually did.

A sound, like metal scraping against metal, suddenly echoed through the otherwise silent warehouse. Bucky whirled around to face the hostage and was promptly hit in the face with something heavy, the blow hard enough to make him stumble. A bright burst of pain shot through his skull, his ear ringing. While Bucky would have liked to claim that he fought back, the truth was that he was caught pathetically off guard and only managed to make an uncoordinated sweep with his right arm, barely worth calling a punch. He connected with something, but that triumph was short-lived.

A kick to his shin, followed by another blow to his face and Bucky lost his balance. He landed hard on the steel floor, eyes swimming and head pulsing with pain. Hands grabbed at his belt and he tried to push them off, knowing they were reaching for his holster, but he was far too dizzy to put up much resistance. His gun was soon taken from him and Bucky didn't know whether to hold his breath in preparation for his inevitable death or to fight in a feeble attempt to get it back.

In the end, he stayed right where he was, trying to breathe through the pain. He could feel blood trickle down his face and reached up to his forehead on pure reflex, hissing when he found a cut next to his eyebrow. He wasn't sure why he wasn't dead yet — shooting him would be ridiculously easy at that point — but he wasn't about to complain.

Bucky cautiously opened his eyes, wincing from the pain. Somehow, it was both a surprise and not very surprising at all when he found himself looking up into the barrel of his own gun, held by the hostage — former hostage now, Bucky supposed. The man's hand was steady and he had taken enough steps back that Bucky wouldn't be able reach him before he had time to pull the trigger. That was no doubt intentional, to prevent Bucky from reclaiming his weapon. He didn't dare to reach for one of his knives, either.

Whoever this man was, he seemed less and less like the average Crystalline — most of them didn't even know how to _hold_ a gun, let alone use it. Judging by his stance, Bucky didn't doubt that this man could, though.

Bucky grimaced but made sure not to move, not wanting to give the man a reason to shoot him. While the duct tape was still affixed across the hostage's mouth — removing it would have been an unnecessary delay during an escape attempt, Bucky knew — the same could not be said for the magnetic cuffs. One was open but still attached to the chair, while the other was held in the Crystalline's hand, a streak of red along one of its corners.

So that was what Bucky had been hit with. He supposed they made for quite an efficient club, and he was reluctant to admit that the man was clearly quite resourceful. Few people knew how to get out of magnetic cuffs and even fewer were able to get the drop on someone like Bucky.

The man let the cuff fall to the floor with a metallic clatter, the sound loud enough to make Bucky wince. He still didn't move, knowing full well that he was at a disadvantage. Besides, it couldn't be more than three minutes before Clint returned from his rounds. If Bucky could keep the hostage distracted until then, Clint would no doubt be able to overpower the man.

"I gotta admit," he muttered, keeping his hands clearly visible, "you took me by surprise."

The hostage raised his free hand and tugged off the duct tape, doing an admirable job of not showing how much it had to hurt.

"Yeah," he replied, tone flat. He balled up the strip of tape and tossed it aside. "I get that a lot. People have a tendency to underestimate me."

Bucky let out a slow breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Had this been any other Crystalline, he wouldn't have been particularly afraid, but he simply couldn't get a read on this guy. Bucky had no idea what to expect. This mark had been unnervingly unpredictable from the very beginning, his fancy suit and incessant talking a stark contrast to the calculating efficiency Bucky was now met with.

"Remind me not to do that again."

The comment earned him an amused snort, but the hostage's gaze still remained cold and unimpressed. It was a jarring change from the carefree smiles from before. Bucky didn't like it one bit, his skin crawling with the knowledge that he had no idea what else the guy might be hiding.

"Who paid you to kidnap me?" the man demanded to know.

Bucky swallowed, willing the pain in his head to go away. Blood was still trickling down his face and he didn't think his legs were stable enough to carry him just yet.

"I dunno."

"Bullshit."

Bucky stared up at the man, trying to look as earnest as possible. "It's the truth. The contractor's usin' a fake name. I tried to find out more about them but couldn't."

Even Nat had given it a try and if she couldn't find a single trace, the person didn't exist to begin with.

That clearly wasn't the answer the man had wanted. His gritted his teeth while his fingers squeezed the gun tightly enough that Bucky was beginning to fear he might get shot by accident.

"And you're just a hired goon, I presume?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Bucky admitted. He saw no reason not to. If he pretended to know more than he did, he might get tortured — he had tried that before and wouldn't recommend it — and while pointing out his insignificance might just as easily get him killed, a lot of people would also consider him less guilty. He was just there to do a job, nothing more.

The Crystalline seemed to consider this, his gaze never leaving Bucky. His hand remained surprisingly steady too, the gun not wavering an inch. Had Bucky not been so frustrated, he might actually have taken a moment to be impressed. Now he just tried to push back his growing unease, waiting impatiently for Clint's return.

"Your arm," the man said suddenly, nodding toward Bucky's bionic limb. "The mark on it. The star."

Bucky tensed, feeling his hackles rise. "What about it?" he snapped, forcing himself not to cover the white star decorating his metal shoulder.

"You work for the Captain?"

Bucky barely managed to hold back his surprise; not many Crystallines knew what that star meant. Sure, Steve himself was widely known up above, the people terrified of what he could accomplish — the fierce resistance he had managed to rally down in the depths of Nethermost. The star, however, was a symbol only Netherdwellers were familiar with — one that inspired hope and promised a brighter future.

Crystallines weren't supposed to know about it and Bucky was both angry and impressed that this one did. Bucky's former hostage was clearly well informed, which made him even more dangerous.

The man might be trying to find a way to arrest Steve and, if there was one thing Bucky knew for sure, it was that he would rather die than let the Crystallines get their hands on Steve. Not only because he happened to be Bucky's best friend, but because so many people depended on him — the entire resistance might fall if Steve did.

Bucky would do anything within his power to protect that — to keep that stubborn flame of hope and determination burning.

"No," Bucky lied, "I don't."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." Bucky knew he wasn't giving anything away, at least not on the outside.

"You are." The Crystalline was clearly displeased. "Your communicator has a built-in pulse monitor and it tells me you're lying."

That made no sense. How could the man possibly know what Bucky's communicator was saying? He was standing several feet away and Bucky's sleeve covered the device.

"How—"

"That doesn't matter. I know you're lying." The man was clearly growing impatient, his gaze flicking to the door Clint would be arriving through — hopefully any second now — before returning his focus to Bucky. "You work for the Captain."

It wasn't a question this time.

Bucky glared. "So what if I am?" he snarled. "I won't tell you where he is."

"No, I know," the Crystalline replied. Without hesitation he flipped the gun around, grabbing it by the barrel instead, and held it out to Bucky. "But you will take me to him."

Bucky could only stare the first couple of seconds. He soon realized what he was being offered, however, and swiftly got to his feet. The world spun for a moment or two, but he ignored that in favor of snatching his gun from the Crystalline, perhaps with more force than necessary.

Once he had the gun in hand, Bucky immediately backed up and took aim, though the Crystalline didn't seem particularly troubled by it.

"Why did you do that?" Bucky wasn't sure why the man surrendered the gun — he certainly didn't have to — and that put him on edge.

"Call it a sign of good faith," was the reply. The man smiled, once again infuriatingly at ease. "A truce, if you will."

Bucky glared, trying to ignore the few remaining black spots dancing across his vision. "I won't take you to the Captain."

"Why not?"

The answer should have been obvious.

"'Cause I don't trust you."

The man raised his hands in surrendered, but the effect was ruined by the dramatic eyeroll he also offered. "I just need to talk to him, okay? So would you be so kind and set up a meeting?"

Bucky raised a dubious eyebrow. "Do I look like his fuckin' secretary?"

Even if he had been, he wouldn't let a random stranger close to someone as important as Steve. A lot of people wanted to talk to him and about half of them had bad intentions. This Crystalline might very well be one of them.

"Are you always this distrustful?"

"Only toward people who hit me in the face," Bucky replied scathingly. How could one man be so infuriating? And where the fuck was Clint?

"To be fair, you tranquilized me, then cuffed me to a chair for three hours. I'd say we're even." The Crystalline tilted his head to the side. "Sorry about the face, though. I'm usually more careful around works of art."

Bucky frowned in confusion. "What?"

The man laughed, his eye twinkling in a thoroughly distracting manner. "Your face is a work of art and I'm sorry for bludgeoning it."

Bucky froze. He wasn't even sure how to respond to that, if at all. This was definitely the first time a hostage had _flirted_ with him.

"You're cute when you're blushing."

"Shut up," Bucky snapped. "You think some cliché compliments are gonna make me trust you?"

"No, but I _was_ hoping that me giving your gun back — _without_ shooting you, I want to point out — would." The man looked imploringly at Bucky. "I just want to talk to him."

Bucky narrowed his eyes. "You could still be a threat. I don't know you."

"Well, my name is Tony, if that helps?" The man's inviting smile was both infuriating and kind of cute, which meant Bucky decided, quite firmly, that he hated it.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," Bucky replied, but he would be lying if he said that he wasn't filing the name away for his own use.

The Crystalline — _Tony_ — sighed, looking _impatient_ of all things. "Look, I could stand here in this lovely little warehouse of yours and explain it all to you, or you could take me to the Captain so we can get this show on the road right away."

"What show?" Bucky asked suspiciously.

"I want to help." Tony looked surprisingly earnest and not at all bothered that he was still at gunpoint. "With the rebellion."

Bucky let out an incredulous snort. As if a Crystalline would ever help with the rebellion meant to rob them of their glamour and power?

"I don't believe you."

Tony met his gaze and there was so much conviction there — so much fierceness and determination that Bucky forgot who he was talking to for a moment. He had seen that look in the faces of Netherdwellers, but never a Crystalline.

"I want to help," Tony repeated. He took a deep breath, his gaze flickering nervously across the room before settling back on Bucky. "I know how to get into Stane Industries. Both the mainframe and the factories. I can get your Captain as many weapons as he and his rebellion need."

Bucky stared, trying to convince himself that Tony was bluffing. He _had_ to be. Stane Industries was impenetrable, everyone knew that. But the look in Tony's eyes — the confidence and certainty — said that he was telling the truth. He might be nervous, but he wasn't lying.

"Is that enough?" Tony spoke softer now, looking more unsure. "I really need to speak with the Captain."

It was a risk — a _huge_ risk — but, if what Tony said was true, this could turn the tide. They might actually have a shot at this. They might actually _win_. Bringing Tony to Steve would require breaking the kidnapping contract, though, and Bucky wasn't sure if he could do that without knowing for sure that Tony was worth it.

"Give me proof," he said. "I need more than your word."

"Sure. If you give me back my communicator."

It was the first thing they had taken from Tony when they kidnapped him and giving it back was definitely a risk. With it, Tony could call for help. Then again, if he did, Bucky would shoot him long before that help arrived.

Bucky transferred his gun to his left hand and pulled out Tony's communicator from one of his pockets. It was of a model Bucky had never seen before, but that came as no surprise. The Crystallines had access to all the new technology while the people in Nethermost were lucky to even have clean water to drink.

"No funny business," he warned, before tossing over the communicator.

Tony caught it with a crooked smile. "Wouldn't dream of it, cupcake."

Bucky's eyes narrowed at the nickname but stayed quiet, watching as Tony snapped the communicator onto his right wrist. It immediately lit up, projecting a light blue holo screen. Tony definitely had a newer model than Bucky. With a couple of swift, graceful movements with his left hand, Tony searched through the menus before apparently finding what he was looking for. Another click and the hologram changed to show a worker's ID. Tony enlarged it and flipped it to face Bucky with a flick of his wrist.

The Stane Industries logo was emblazoned at the top, a photo of Tony just below and, underneath that, the name Anthony Jarvis. Bucky skimmed through the information, more for his own curiosity's sake than trying to catch a lie. Falsifying a digital Stane ID was quite literally impossible, so, if Tony had one, that meant he really was working for the company.

"Well, seems like you're telling the truth, Mr. Jarvis."

Tony grimaced. "I prefer Tony."

Bucky lowered his gun. As much as he hated risks, he knew he had to take this one. Steve would want to talk to someone who claimed to have a way to infiltrate Stane Industries — especially when this someone carried an actual ID from the company. Bucky would just have to make sure to keep an eye on Tony and, if he threatened Steve or anyone else in the resistance, Bucky would kill him.

"Alright," he said. "I'll take you to him. But—" he hastily added when Tony lit up, "—you will be wearing the cuffs."

Tony frowned and looked like he wanted to protest, but eventually nodded in acceptance. That was one point in his favor.

"And," Bucky continued, "if you do anythin' to harm him or anyone else, I'll shoot you myself."

"I wouldn't expect any less from you, cupcake," Tony replied.

Bucky glared. "Don't call me that," he growled, tucking his gun back into its holster.

He picked up the cuff Tony had dropped, then unlatched the one still attached to the chair.

"If you gave me your name, I wouldn't have to." Tony was already holding out his wrists when Bucky turned to face him. The show of obedience was both surprising and suspicious.

"Fuck off," Bucky replied as he coupled the cuffs together, then reached out to snap them onto Tony's wrists. The barely noticeable hum of the magnets was almost comforting. He looked up, his gaze finding Tony's. "I'm not sure what method you used to get out of the cuffs, but I won't let it happen a second time."

There was a spark of defiance in Tony's eyes, or perhaps it would be better described as mischief.

"We'll see about that, cupcake" he replied.

Bucky gritted his teeth and tugged on the cuffs, making sure they were put on properly. He thought he'd take pleasure in seeing Tony's pained wince, but only ended up feeling like a bully.

He swallowed and muttered, "Bucky."

"What?"

Bucky made sure to focus on the cuffs, not Tony's face. "My name is Bucky," he repeated.

There was a beat of silence, then, "Nice to meet you, Bucky."

It was both the words and the tone that made Bucky look up. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the smile on Tony's face — he looked far too happy considering the situation they were in.

"I kidnapped you," he pointed out. "That's not a very nice first meetin'."

Tony shrugged. "I've had worse."

Bucky let out a snort before taking a step back. "I'm sure you have."

Before Tony had time to reply, the door at the other end of the warehouse slammed open. Clint came storming in and Bucky realized he'd momentarily forgotten than Clint was even on the premises.

"What the fuck, man?" Clint greeted, shouting across the wide open space as he came stomping toward them, arms spread wide in indignation. "Have you shut off your fucking communicator or something? I've been trying to reach you for the past five minutes!"

Bucky felt a wave of unease. "What?"

He quickly double checked but his communicator showed no missed calls or messages. He had service, though, because neither he nor Clint was stupid enough to choose a dead spot as their base for a kidnapping job.

"I was trying to tell you that something's off and we need to leave. We can do the exchange somewhere else." Clint walked right past Bucky to fetch his weapon's case. "Some of the automatic doors locked and my override codes didn't work. I had to _hack_ the fucking thing to get through. And calling you for help obviously didn't work."

He turned to face Bucky and Tony, for the first time seeming to notice that Tony was no longer sitting in his chair. Tony, the bastard, had the audacity to give Clint a cheeky little wave, only slightly hindered by the cuffs around his wrists.

"Hi!"

Clint blinked. "Okay. I can tell I've clearly missed something important."

Bucky only barely managed to suppress his juvenile urge to stomp on Tony's foot. The man continued to be the single most infuriating man Bucky had ever met.

"Yeah." Bucky glanced at Tony, who was obviously trying his best to look innocent and failing spectacularly. "Change of plans. We're taking him with us, back to the base."

Clint opened his mouth, perhaps to protest or maybe just to ask why, but then seemed to think better of it.

"You know what?" he said. "You can explain later. Let's leave first. This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies."

Clint hitched his weapon's case higher on his shoulder and headed for the door.

"I'm sure it was just a technical glitch of some kind," Tony said helpfully, which made Bucky instantly suspicious. He gave Tony a narrow-eyed look, but Tony only smiled in return. "So we're leaving?"

"Yeah," Clint called back, without breaking his stride. "Right now."

Bucky gestured for Tony to follow after Clint, not wanting to turn his back on the man. Last time he did that, Bucky ended up getting a magnetic cuff to the face. It wasn't a pleasant experience. Bucky might be willing to take Tony to see Steve, but trusting him was another matter entirely. He just hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

Bringing a stranger to their base was no doubt a huge risk, but if Tony could do what he claimed, then he might very well be the key to the whole rebellion. Perhaps all this suffering could end, once and for all.

They had gotten roughly two blocks away from the warehouse when Clint glanced over his shoulder and suddenly asked, "By the way, what the fuck happened to your face? Did you get mauled by a meat grinder?"

Bucky gritted his teeth and glared flatly at Clint, trying to ignore Tony's snicker. "None of your fucking business," he replied.

Tony, the little shit, gave Bucky a beaming grin, followed by a wink. Bucky wished he could say that didn't send some of his blood rushing south, but it did. Fucking hell.

This was no doubt going to be a _very_ long night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who are wondering: yes, Tony has Extremis here. And yes, his name really is Tony Jarvis, since Stane taking over Stark Industries happened much earlier and, in a desperate attempt to save their son (just before Stane had them killed), Maria and Howard asked Jarvis and Ana to care for Tony instead. So Tony grew up thinking his name really was Jarvis, but, as he starts helping the rebellion, he is going to realise that everything isn't quite what it seems...
> 
> **That said, as sad as it makes me, I want to repeat: this is complete and I have no intentions to write anything more on this story. Sorry.**
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://amethystinawrites.tumblr.com/)!


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